


Til it's all over

by Edelwing



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Violence, Car Chases, Card Games, Chases, Coffee, Concussions, First Meetings, Friendship, Gun Violence, Guns, Implied/Referenced Torture, Interrogation, Japanese Mafia, Long Hair, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mafia AU, Rings, Russian Mafia, Septica, Tattoos, Tears, Tension, Young Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edelwing/pseuds/Edelwing
Summary: The two instances Yuuri went to Russia.The first time, he got a concussion. The second time, he got a man.





	1. The Dust that You Die on

Once in a while, Toshiya Katsuki goes to St. Petersburg for a business meeting with Yakov Feltsman. It’s frightening for the outer world to see the two most powerful and fear-infusing mafia bosses ore in the same room, possibly discussing the fate of the world. But they were not aggressive, by any means. In fact, they had a rather bizarre yet peaceful way to set the deals. They played a card game, something Mr. Feltsman learned while away in Western Europe, and whoever won, won the deal as well. The stakes and compromises were clarified beforehand.

Toshiya Katsuki had a son he cherished: Yuuri. The fall Yuuri entered adulthood, Mr. Katsuki took him along to a meeting, to teach him how to deal with Russians. Yuuri had a pocketknife he fidgeted with all trip long. For the first time, he was going with his father to run on errands outside the country. Additionally, he wasn’t going just anywhere, he was going to Russia, to the Feltsman’s. According to his father, all the bad rumors floating around about them are empty words. Still, Yuuri had a sinking feeling about meeting a mafia whose members were practically born with firearms in hand.

Yuuri and Mr. Katsuki were escorted to a labyrinth under St. Petersburg. The ancient brick walls smelled like mold. It was rather dark, since the lights were few and far between. There were also Mr. Feltsman’s armed mafia men around every corner, which made Yuuri both uneasy and safe. Those people were there to protect them from outside harm and spies, but they could also kill Yuuri the second he made a wrong move.

Yakov Feltsman was already waiting for them at a round table. A young man sat next to him. His hair resembled the Russian winters: long, silvery and all over the place. He was fidgeting with the deck of card under the table. Maybe he was as nervous as Yuuri.

The four of them shook hands, Yakov and Toshiya hugged and patted each other’s backs and then they began to talk business. Yuuri payed much attention – just like he always does – to how the men worded their ideas, their smirks and tilts of head. He kept an eye on the silver-maned man whose name – he learned – was Viktor. Also known as Winter Night. Viktor had soul-piercing eyes, sharp and icy. However, his pose – chin rested on palm, eyes lidded and legs crossed – was oozing anything but interest. But Yuuri knew that Viktor, deep down inside, was taking each and every detail in. His smirk, the slight, slight pull at his lips was hinting at this.

The deal was set as follows: the Russian and Japanese mafia were to be merged together, with one man in charge and a second-in-command. Whoever won the card game, wont the families. Toshiya divided the card between him and Yakov, five for each.

“Father, may I play too?” Yuuri interrupted.

Yakov raised an eyebrow. “Quite bold, don’t you think?”

Even though the question didn’t have any specific target, it was answered by Toshiya. “Perhaps. At least he’s polite.”

Viktor muttered something in Russian, Yakov chuckled and Yuuri adjusted his glasses. Toshiya gave a deck of card to Viktor too, without asking him. And the game began. They were taking turns, going clockwise in a circle, placing cards on the table and picking others up, as needed. At some point, Viktor’s hand trembled when he reached for two cards. Today wasn’t his lucky day, since he already had almost a full hand. Yuuri’s grip on his deck tightened, so he wouldn’t be shaking much.

Unsurprisingly, Yakov and Toshiya laughed almost all throughout the game. Yuuri, too, made a few funny remarks and he could see the pride growing in his father’s eyes. Viktor, on the other hand, was as quiet as a mouse.

“Last one!”

“Don’t walk around just yet, Mr. Katsuki,” Yakov warned him. He placed his card of choice on the table, and then opened his mouth to go one, but…

_POW!!!_

…and Toshiya’s body collapsed heavy on the table, blood leaking from a whole near his hears.

“FATHER!” Yuuri shrieked and reached for him, but something cold smashed against his head, sending him flying to the ground. There was a dampness pressed to his face and he inhaled a sweet yet faint scent, then his limbs gave out. He heard someone shouting his name, then nothing.

* * *

“INTRUDERS!” Yakov barked, but his henchmen were already counterattacking with open fire. “VITYA, GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!”

Viktor reacted immediately, grabbing Yuuri and running towards the back wall. He pushed the man beyond the emergency exit door, and they found themselves in a dork corridor. Viktor contemplated on turning on the lights, but he ultimately decided against it. After all, he knew this labyrinth like the back of his hand. Blood was pumping in his ears and he couldn’t hear the gunshots anymore, but he knew they were they. He was aware, however, of Yuuri’s ragged exhales and the aching and stiffness in his own calf. Yuuri’s body was heavy as led, drugged from the chlorophorm. The moment Viktor crawled far enough from the battlefield, his knees gave up and dropped himself and the other to the cold floor, panting as though he needed a third lung. He stared into space, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. He needed to grab onto something, and he tugged at his hair. His messy, sweaty, disgusting hair.

He patted his pockets, relieved to find a tiny torch there. He aimed the light beam at Yuuri and his breath hitched. Half of the man’s head was caked in blood. Viktor cursed under his breath and acted without thinking: he took off his T-shirt and rolled it tight around Yuuri’s head to stop the bleeding.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Katsuki!” he yelped and his fingers shook while tying the knot. “Yakov and your father would kill me!”

His heart skipped a beat when he heard footsteps running around closer and closer and closer. He turned his torch off and dragged Yuuri around the nearest corned and slowed down his breathing. He feared, however, that whoever was coming after them would hear his hear hitting against his ribcage.

 _This is the end of me_ , Viktor thought and pulled Yuuri more to his chest. _The assassins killed Yakov and now they are coming after us. Oh God, oh fuck, oh shit…_

He couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat. Someone called his name. He barely reacted. He didn’t know the voice, but after a second thought, he recognized it. When the men came closer, Viktor couldn’t believe his eyes: they were Yakov’s henchmen! They came to rescue him, he had a chance to live.

The shock was too overwhelming, he couldn’t hold back anymore and let his tears of relief roll down his eyes.


	2. The Shoulder you Cry on

The air in his office was still and emptied of any noise, just like Yuuri wanted it to be. There was nothing to distract him, nothing to interfere with his thoughts. The hassle was over, he received the money and he kept his hands clean, and that's all that mattered.

He lit up a cigarette out of habit, leaned back on his leather chair and gazed at the falls. There were newspaper cutouts all over them; some new, some already yellow. He liked to keep track of how the media spoke of the leader of Japan's deadliest mafia family. Tomorrow, there will be a new addition to this collection. His henchmen exterminated a Russian spy not too long ago. It was almost a pity, she was a beautiful lady. A little hotheaded and reckless, but a beautiful specimen nonetheless.

 _But_ , Yuuri thought, _the gorgeous ones are the deadliest._

Tomorrow, he shall see her round, curious eyes for the last time, in on the BREAKING NEWS section.

He smirked. This woman was one hell of a slippery one. No wonder there was so much money on the line. And so many risks involved. Not that Yuuri went into this blindly. He knew full well what he was getting himself into when he requested to be allowed to chase down the _Russian Snake Lady_ , as the woman was called.

At first, people laughed in his face: Yuuri's mafia family was tiny. He only had a hacker (who was by the way all the way in Thailand so he wouldn't endanger the rest of them if tracked down and caught), a spy here in Japan, two in the States and two in Europe, and a handful of assassins.

As stated before, this was nothing impressive, but it left people baffled when it proved to be the deadliest Japanese family there ever was.

Sure, they committed various crimes and frauds beforehand, but they were always undercover and working from within the shadows. This was the first time they showed their true potential. And it might be the last time as well.

Yuuri wasn't fond of being in the limelight, after all.

He puffed another smoke and glanced at his watch: it was a little after 11 o'clock in the afternoon. Still early for him. His office didn't have any windows whatsoever, since it was well underground, so his sleep pattern has been turned upside down. By having the artificial light always on, he count tell day and night apart.

He had an impulse of contacting Phichit. It's been ages since they had a small talk, like regular human beings. This boss-subordinate relationship of theirs never felt completely natural. There was always more to Phichit that Yuuri wanted to know, to discover. And he usually did this through regular conversations.

Right when he grabbed his phone, there were erratic footsteps coming from far beyond the door.

Yuuri made a mental note to remind his men not to run on the hallway, since it drives him nuts. Right when the doorknob twisted, the lights went out, the alarm system went off and the door locked itself up. Yuuri dropped his phone, unable to process what was happening.

"HIDE, MR. KATSUKI! RUN!" a voice called, accompanied by loud banging on the door.

Yuuri couldn't see past the bridge of his nose, let alone run away. He started to paw his way to the emergency exit, but then the room filled with static noise, from his phone and laptop and radio station.

"Good morning, Mr. Katsuki Yuuri," a calculated and almost robotic voice called from around everywhere. It was too deep to belong to a man. "Or should I greet you with good afternoon? In any case, I'm rather surprised you managed to track down my Russian Snake and for that I applaud you. As you might have noticed, she can be quite the challenge."

Yuuri was beginning to come to his senses. "Who are you?"

His question was ignored. "However, what I'm not pleased with at all is the death of my beloved Mila. She died by your hands and you have my word, you are going to pay for that."

The Japanese man felt weak in the knees and grabbed the nearest thing he could find to hold onto. Probably it was the corner of his desk.

"Shall I state the price? Or shall I say, the stakes?" the voice continued. "Receiving bribe of half a million dollars to falsify the elections, drug dealing, information dealing, heavy implications in the black market, shall I go on?"

Yuuri cursed under his breath.

"Do these sound familiar to you? You thought you erased those wrongdoings when you formatted your hard disk and threw tour old computer away, did you not, Mr. Katsuki? I'm afraid to tell you that my men are masters in file recovery. I'm proud of them, they did a fantastic job, don't you think?"

"What do you want?" Yuuri snarled through gritted teeth.

There was a drastic change in the voice's attitude, as well as a drop in its tone. "Unless you want this information to be public, I want all the money you received for murdering Mila. You are to give them to me by yourself; otherwise, I'll track down your henchmen and kill them one by one. It's not such a good idea anymore to have a family all over the globe, is it, Mr. Katsuki? I'm the Winter Night and I'll be waiting for your arrival in St. Petersburg by Wednesday's morning. My people will escort you ther in the safest manner possible. You are to be unaccompanied. Otherwise, I won't hold back. Beware that I've tracked down your two European spies."

Yuuri clenched his fingers around the hard wood.

"Farewell, Mr. Katsuki." And the static noise ended.

The lights turned back on and the door banged open.

"KENJIROU, EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!" Yuuri barked.

The boy was panting, his fists were balling on the threshold and his knees were slightly shaking. "Itit was Feltsman's people, sir. The Russian family... They hacked into our system." He drew a huge breath in. "I've never seen someone do that with so much ease. Phichit's firewall was indestructible."

Yuuri muttered. "So much for that..." His phone started buzzing. He glanced at the number and rolled his eyes. "Speak of the devil and he's sure to appear." Then he answered it. "I hope you have a good excuse for letting the Russian mafia into our headquarters, Mr. Chulanont."

"They didn't hack into our system, Yuuri," Phichit voice was calculated and flat. "They tried to, but they couldn't. Then they went for the next best thing: radio signals."

Yuuri worked on the sport between his eyebrows. "And how about the power outage?"

Phichit kept the silent for a brief moment. "That's also their fault, but the whole neighborhood was left without electricity, not just you." He chuckled a bit. "Come to think about it, they had an easier time hacking into the local electricity facilities than into your HQ."

"That's anything but funny, Chulanont," Yuuri growled and Phichit went silent. "I want you to look over our encrypted data one more time, make sure it can't be stolen or manipulated. Is that clear?"

Phichit barely opened his mouth to speak. The hoarseness in Yuuri's tone sent shivers of cold claws over his spine. "Yes, sir... Understood"

* * *

 

Yuri turned the call off and then leaned back on his chair. "I hope you're satisfied. That was the dimmest thing I had to do in a long while."

He received a pat on the shoulder and the man behind him smiled widely. "It was very good, well done."

Yuri scoffed and turned around. "You haven't been the papa for a month and you already engage in dangerous situations like these? You're going to end up beheaded, you know that?"

"I know thy full well. But I also don't mind it, especially if it's death by Yuuri's hands." He straightened his back and headed towards the exit.

"Oi, Viktor!" He was called from behind. "I wouldn't get my hopes up for this meeting if I were you. He probably hates you now."

Something in Viktor's gaze darkened and stared at his toes. "Hope dies last."

Yuri eyed him with a blank expression. "Viktor, his father was murdered... Also," he continued and placed his feet on the desk, “try not to make it too obvious that you are infatuated with him.”

* * *

In a week, Yuuri was in Moscow. He ultimately chose to drive there - insane, he knows - but this was the easiest way to smuggle handguns into the country. Throughout his journey, he kept in touch with the Russian man, arranging a meeting at a restaurant, just outside of the city. Yuuri guessed the man he has been talking to was papa Feltsman himself, the scariest papa in all of Russia, if not, in all of Eurasia.

When he entered the restaurant, he searched for an old person and his men. Instead, he found none of that. Yuuri was no fool, he could recognize mafia member from a mile away. But the image of one was clashing with the short blondie waiting for him, so it left Yuuri stuttering for a moment.

The tiny boy extended his hand and Yuuri shook it firmly. "Let's get this over with. I'm Ice Tiger. I'm supposed to ask you if you're hungry."

Yuuri calculated his options: his stomach was growling and this small and angry guy was going to take him who knows where. Besides, eating at a restaurant holds a lower chance of being poisoned. Therefore, Yuuri nodded.

They ate in silence. Not a single word shared. As Yuuri put more thought into this, he realized that the kid in front of him was the one he has been talking to all this time. So it wasn't papa Feltsman.

They paid and left. Yurio climbed onto a black motorcycle with slick design and accents of red. "I hope you can keep up. We're going to St. Petersburg. Try not to get lost."

But Yuuri was already starting the car.

* * *

While Yuuri had his headquarters deep underground, in an unhabituated area, the Russian Mafia lived in a huge, golden mason. Yuuri liked to keep a low profile; if caught, he'd be killed. But the Feltsman's? Not a chance. Their headquarters screamed, "We're here, we're powerful, step on our tail and we'll kill you." Talk about a cultural difference.

Yuuri was taken to what he guessed was the conference hall: a long room, with an equally long table, made with mahogany and bathed in an expensive polish. The ceiling was high and shaped like a dome, decorated with all sorts of paintings and intricate designs in gold and copper, the light equally warm. The windows were as tall as the walls, and there was a tall and slender person standing in front of them. The sunrays passed through his silver mane of hair.

The man turned around and smiled at them. "Hello, Fairy."

"IT'S ICE TIGER!" The boy shouted.

The man approached them and Yuuri clenched his fingers on the briefcase full of money. "My name is Viktor Nikiforov. It's a pleasure to have you in my home, Mr. Katsuki Yuuri."

"Dusk Mouse," Yuuri  corrected.

The other man smiled. "No need for that."

Viktor was one special man, that much Yuuri could tell. His eyes were breathtaking, there's no denying about that, but there was something odd in his smile. Perhaps it was supposed to be intimidating, but Yuuri could see beyond that. The smile was a fake, it was a mask. The gorgeous ones are the most dangerous after all.

Yuuri shook Viktor's hand with a firm grip and didn't lose focus on the teal eyes for a single moment. Then the tall man turned to the Ice Tiger Fairy and spoke a line in Russian. The little one nodded, snatched the briefcase right from Yuuri's hands and exited the room. The door banged shut, and then the atmosphere went silent.

"I told him to check the money; I don't like getting my hands in that sort of job." Viktor gestured for Yuuri to take a sit and he did. To Yuuri's surprise, Viktor didn't go to the other end of the table. Instead, he pulled a chair and sat right next to him.

Yuuri leaned on his elbow. "As far as I've seen, Mr. Nikiforov, you don't get involved in anything."

"If that were true, I wouldn't be speaking with you right now."

"I guess Papa Feltsman sent you here, did he not?"

Viktor's eyes went wide for a brief second. Then he regained his composure. "Oh, I suppose word doesn't travel that fast into Japan? Yakov Feltsman is no longer the head of the mafia." He squared his shoulders. "I am."

Yuuri's eyebrows twitched upwards. "I see... Interesting. Say, Mr. Nikiforov. Is there a place suitable for me to smoke?"

It took Viktor some time to respond. "Of course. Follow me, please." He stood up, dusted off his clothes and Yuuri did the same. Then, Viktor placed his handgun on the table. "Mr. Katsuki?"

Yuuri turned around, and understood: he was expected to do the same. And he did. He left both of his handguns on the dark table. Viktor cleared his throat. Yuuri subtlely rolled his eyes and took a dagger he kept on the inside of his suit jaket and dropped it on the table as well. "Sharp eye, Mr. Nikiforov," he poined out and followed Viktor through the hallways.

"You'll have to excuse my lack of manners, Mr. Katsuki," Viktor said, offering his elbow for Yuuri to grab onto, which Yuuri politely refused. "However, I'm afraid I can't go outside these walls, for safety reasons. I'm sure you understand. I would have loved to show my garden to you, but for the time being, it'll have to wait. Until then, my bedroom has to do."

Yuuri's muscles tensed up and tense they remained. He was taken to the next floor, where he was welcomed into Viktor's bedroom.

Enormous was an underestimation. A whole apartment could fit in his bedroom. Compared to the conference hall, Viktor's room was all silver and modern. The furniture had sharp and defined corners, there were accents of black and white here and there, but the most striking feature were the paintings that decorated the walls.

"I see you have a preference for Dali," Yuuri noted.

This took the other man by surprise. In the end, he just smiled and gestured towards the balcony, which was only big enough to accommodate for a round table and a couple of chairs.

"Please have a seat," Viktor cooed. "Would you like some coffee too?"

Yuuri shook his head, dragged a chair and sat down. Viktor excused himself for a moment - most probably he was preparing himself some coffee - and Yuuri took the time to take in the view. It was breathtakingly gorgeous: sand alleys ran among thousands of flowers, the trees were carefully arranged and groomed into shape. There was a fountain in the middle, but it was quiet now. The sun was setting and white, puffy clouds mixed with the gold and magenta sky.

Yuuri jolted up when Viktor placed a cup on the table and sat down.

"Oh, I'm sorry... Did I startle you?"

Yuuri kept quiet and lit up a cigarette. His gaze followed the horizon line for a moment, and then he found himself asking, "So this is your garden, right? It’s pretty."

A smile pulled Viktor’s mouth up. "Thank you." He took a short sip from his coffee. "To be honest, I couldn’t have ever thought that smoking was your weakness."

"One of many, Mr. Nikiforov. Being the head of mafia, let it be Russian or Japanese, brings along fortune, but as well as addictions." He puffed again.

The rest of his cigarette was smoked in almost silence. Viktor shifted around at some point to remove his navy suit jacket and his tie. He undid the first buttons on his shirt as well, and Yuuri caught something with the corner of his eye: there was ink work on Viktor’s collarbone.

"What does it say?" Yuuri asked. Viktor understood the question without any given context. He stared into his coffee and sighed before giving a half-whispered answer. "Makkachin. It was my dog... He died a year ago, and this is the least I could in memory of him without drawing too much attention."

Yuuri muttered an "I’m sorry", since it was the only response that seemed appropriate. He contemplated lighting up a new cigarette, but he didn’t want to overdo it with smoking. "A lot can happen in five years, huh, Viktor? I mean, you cut your beautiful hair. What gives?"

"You can say that one more time." Viktor smiled. "It was getting in the way and… I thought it was high time I changed something."

"Well, I would’ve loved to tangle my fingers in it," Yuuri said and pushed his own hair back, as if mimicking the gesture.

Viktor went tomato-red and chocked on his coffee.

Yuuri leaned over and patted his back firmly. "Easy there, don’t die on me."

"That sounds a lot like what I told you instead of good bye, the last time I talked to you." Viktor cleared his throat.

"Speaking of which, I hope I’ll be conciuous all the time that I’m staying here," Yuuri joked and the other one laughed. It was the purest laugh Yuuri heard in forever.

Viktor sighed. “Oh, Yuuri, if only you knew how much I waited to have a heart-to-heart chat with you.”

“Oh, did you?” Yuuri stared into the sunset, but his question was aimed at Viktor. A small smile pulled his lips upwards. Truth be told, he too wanted to meet those sharp eyes again. There was something captivating about them back then. He couldn’t put his finger on it back then, nor could he do that now, but that something was raw and fragile then. Now it has matured into the Viktor standing before his very eyes.

Viktor ran a hand through his bangs. "Say, Yuuri... Would you like to be the Russian papa as well?"

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open and he stared at Viktor without blinking.

"Judging by your reaction, I reckon that you don’t hear requests like this every day." Viktor chuckled. "I’m impressed by your family, Yuuri. It’s rather small, but you managed to track down and retain Mila. And Mila‚ wasn’t nicknamed the Russian Snake for nothing."

Yuuri turned in his chair. "Was this your plan all along?" He smirked.

Viktor shrugged. "Perhaps... Or perhaps not."

"What would I get out of this deal, Viktor?"

Viktor cleared his throat. "Security, to begin with. Whether it’s cyber-attacks or armed attacks, you’d be safe from both. You’d also get money, fame and me."

"Where’s you deck of cards?" Yuuri almost mocked him.

"I’ve left that habit behind. It seems idiotic. Besides, this isn’t a game of win or lose." Viktor almost purred. "Be both can win something."

Yuuri gulped. "I’ll think about it," he finally admitted. "I would like to have my leaked information back, if possible, please," he said in a firmer tone.

Viktor stood up, muttering an "Of course", and then guided Yuuri to an upper level of the building, the attic. There, they found only one door, which Viktor opened without even knocking. Inside, it was dim. The light of an entire wall of computer screens was the only source of light. Yuuri guessed most of them were surveillance cameras.

The Ice Tiger Fairy was typing like mad, but stopped abruptly when Viktor called his name. „We need the files," he commanded.

The little boy groaned in disgust. "It took you some time to come to your senses." He then searched in a drawer after an empty USB stick. He moved an archive named YKat to it, and then handed it to Yuuri along with a hard disk drive. "Next time I recommend storing your data the traditional way, since it’s easier to erase. You could just burn in."

Yuuri accepted them a little bit too eagerly, and then turned to Viktor. "Is this all?"

Viktor nodded, then told the other one something in Russian – to which the shorty answered with the languid flick of a hand – then urged Yuuri towards the exit.

"Are you tired, by any chance?" Viktor asked when they found themselves in the intimacy of the halls. "You have been driving for a whole week."

"I might go look for a hotel to stay in," Yuuri confessed.

Out of the blues, Viktor was blocking Yuuri’s view, standing dangerously close to him. He seemed much taller now and he also had a faint smell of aftershave to him. "But you’re more than welcome to spend the night here, Mr. Katsuki."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. "I doubt the Japanese mafia boss is welcomed in the Russian mason. We’re been at each other’s neck for decades, as you may know."

Viktor tilted his head and lowered his eyelids. "That’s partly the reason I asked you to merge our families together: to break this idiotic stereotype that Russians and Japanese don’t get along." He took a step back and extended his hand outwards. "Trust me, your life is more threatened out there than here, Mr. Katsuki. So, what do you say?"

Yuuri grabbed his hand and he was taken to a guest room, which was equally large as Viktor’s. After Viktor instructed him about where to find fresh clothes and towels, Yuuri went to the balcony and lit up another cigarette. He couldn’t leave Moscow empty-handed, and security from the most powerful Russian family didn’t seem such a bad idea.

He wished his father was there to give him a piece of advice.

Images and clips of Viktor played at the back of his mind. Perhaps Viktor was playing a role and his ultimate goal was to murder Yuuri. After all, he was the reason the Russian Snake was dead now. Maybe Viktor was aiming for something even bigger than revenge. Or maybe his goal wan’t revenge at all. If Viktor wanted to, Yuuri would have been dead the moment he stepped a foot in Russia. Yet here he was, safe and sound.

Futhermore, Viktor had potential. His eyes were his secret weapon and he seemed as though he knew that full well by now. No one could resist those eyes and his voice demanded attention. Viktor could convince anyone to do his dirty work. If Yuuri played his cards right, he could have Viktor in his pocket in no time. This could work out better than expected.

The cigarette was left unsmoked.

He barely slept that night. Three hours, at maximum. But he felt more refreshed than ever. It was the break of dawn when he walked down to the conference hall to grab his two handguns and leave as quietly as possible.

The morning air was heavy with doe and rather chilly. His car was hard to find in the mist and right when he unlocked it, his name was called from behind. It was Viktor, pacing fast, closing the distance between them.

"Leaving so early?"

Yuuri looked the other way. "I have a family back in Japan that’s waiting for me. I can’t leave them alone."

"You wouldn’t have time for a coffee together, would you?" Viktor tried, and Yuuri shook his head. "Pity. But I still need an answer."

"My answer is yes." Yuuri was impressed with how much ease he said that. "We’ll discuss the terms and conditions another time." He tried to stay collected.

Viktor leaned in and Yuuri felt a hand crawl at his nape and a warm, soft and long pressure on his lips.

"Was this a good bye kiss?" Yuuri asked when the other one pulled slightly back.

"No, it was a promise."


	3. Red Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one time Viktor went to Japan. And he got... a lot to learn.

“Winter Night is coming here in a couple of days,” Yuuri said matter of factly. He stared at the wall of handguns next to his left, wondering how long it would be until he had to use them _again._ He puffed from his cigarette.

“In times like these?” Phichit questioned through the phone. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

This was more of a nudge to not welcome Winter Night in, rather than a question of worry.

“It’s not safe at all, I’m fully aware of that,” Yuuri confessed and worked at the spot between his eyebrows. “I'm endangering both him and myself. But this is the right thing to do. He promised me protection if we merge our families together, and there hasn't been a time when I needed my back covered more than I do now.” His voice was lacking any emotion, but Phichit knew that the flatter the tone, the more anxious was Yuuri.

Phichit sighed. “I supposed that's my cue to start learning Russian, then?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Raintree,” Yuuri smiled, but then he turned serious. “I would like you to keep an eye on this headquarter, day and night, especially when he will arrive. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. As always.” And that is where the phone call ended.

Yuuri sat up and stretched his arms. He paced his office from one corner to another, aimlessly. At some point, he stopped to gaze at the his newest additions to the newspaper cutouts: seven pieces in the last three days, that's a record. His code-name was at the top of every front-page, bolded and written in red alongside with the cruel word “WANTED” which put a knot in Yuuri’s throat. _Wanted dead,_ Yuuri read between the lines.

His face was on each and every article. No, it wasn't his face, it was his mask: the slicked back hair, the lack of glasses, the soul-piercing gaze, the absence of a smile, the black vest and matching tie on top of a spotless shirt. He has been hiding behind these features for so long that they have almost become his second personality.

It's not as if he wasn't new to being chased around like a rat. He committed a considerable number of crimes all throughout the years and the police was always keeping an eye on him. Especially after killing the Russian Snake, when his family proved to be deadlier than initially thought.

However, he was never caught red handed because his hands remained clean. He never touched a drug or a woman or anything at all, for that matter. And even now, when his own life is on the line, he is clean, theoretically. What happened was that one of his clients - a restaurant owner - was caught dealing drugs. He cowardly confessed he got them from _Dusk Mouse_ and that's when Yuuri’s world crumbled to pieces.

The police has been searching far and wide for his whereabouts. They almost got him one night, he was lucky Kenjirou is light on his feet and skilled with the sword.

Yuuri pressed his forehead against the cold wall and breathed. In, out. In, out. His last hope was Viktor. If Viktor failed - Yuuri shuddered at the thought - they would both lose their heads.

* * *

 

In three days’ time, Viktor was there, in Japan, and Yuuri’s henchmen went to fetch him. He opted to send only one car, but packed with guns and weapons. Anything more than that would draw too much attention.

Those were the longest eight hours of Yuuri’s life, spent in the meeting hall. Which, to be blunt, was an oversized living room, with nothing more than a couch, a table and four chairs.

When they finally returned, he was at his third cigarette. He smoked more in the last two weeks than in the past year. He swore to himself that after all this is over, he would quit this habit. _For good, this time_.

Someone knocked on the door and Yuuri jumped up. Four yakuza entered, then Viktor made his way. Yuuri was left in awe: the man stood taller by almost a head than the people surrounding him. His charcoal suit fit him like a glove. Most probably it was tailor made.

Yuuri reached his hand out and shook Viktor’s. Damn, that man had one hell of a strong grip.

“Welcome, Winter Night. It's a pleasure to have you here. Are you hungry? Would you like some coffee?”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

Yuuri turned to one of his yakuza. “You heard the man.” And then to another one, almost whispered. “Has anyone followed you here?”

They all shook their head and for the first time in ages, Yuuri breathed out. Then he gestured towards Viktor to take a sit and talk business.

“Quite eager, aren't we today?” Viktor remarked and raised an eyebrow.

“Time is short, unfortunately.” Yuuri leaned back on his chair and rested his palms atop of his knees. “I'm in desperate need for your protection, Winter Night. My family are at the top of the wanted list.”

Viktor rests his finger on his chin. “I see.” There was a low vibration in his tone that send shivers through Yuuri’s body. Then Viktor went on. “Alright then.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open, only a little. “Without any discussion beforehand whatsoever?”

Viktor smirked. “Oh no. I'm no fool like that.” He leaned forward, towards Yuuri, and looked at him through his pale eyelashes. “Tell me what you have to offer and what you want in return.”

Yuuri drew a slow breath in. “As I told you before, I need the protection that you offered me.”

“That’s not a problem,” Viktor almost murmured. “In exchange, I would like access to your family. And you’ll have access to mine.”

Yuuri leaned on his elbow. “Would you be so kind to explain that more in depth?”

Someone entered the room after knocking and placed a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Viktor.

The man adjusted his tie. “You see, our fathers had a bug in their plan, one that ultimately would have led to their demise: they wanted to merge the families, but only one of them had the total power over them. And no man could’ve handled that much power. While in our case, I ask you to be the leader alongside me. We would act as one and have complete power over both the Japanese and Russian mafia.”

Yuuri’s mind immediately flew to Phichit. He couldn’t give him up so easily, not even when it was _Viktor Nikiforov_. But then, Viktor had a talented hacker as well. He would make a great team with Phichit. Deadly, even. Truth be told, Yuuri held dear to his family as if they were related by blood and without them, he would’ve been dead now. He owed them his life as much as they owed theirs to him.

Yuuri arched an eyebrow. “No leaked information?”

“Absolutely none,” Viktor nodded slightly.

Yuuri hesitated for a short moment. “Alright then. It’s a deal. We have our witnesses right here.” He pointed at the henchmen standing behind them.

Viktor smiled under his mustache. “Perfect.” He shakes Yuuri’s hand then leans in to press his lips against the other one’s ring finger. “Can’t wait to see what the future will bring us…”

“Peace, hopefully.” Yuuri snatched his hand back a bit too fast.

“Peace? In the mafia?” Viktor scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yuuri stood up and dusted of his clothes. “You know what I meant. Now come with me. There are some things I would like you to see with your very eyes.” Then he threw a command over his shoulder to the other people. “You are dismissed!”

* * *

 

They found themselves in the loneliness of Yuuri’s office. The air had a slight tinge of cigarette smoke to it that never truly went away. There was a desk in one corner, a sofa in the other and countless handguns on the walls. Viktor traced their edges with his fingers, then eyed Yuuri.

When their gaze met, Yuuri asked, “Are you tired?”

“No, but thank you for your concern.” His eyes fell upon the cutouts, but he couldn’t make anything out, since he didn’t speak the language.

In the meantime, Yuuri combed through his hair to remove most of the gel and let his bangs fall loosely on his forehead and eyes. Then he pawed for his glasses. He washed his burning face before putting them on. He had no clue to why his skin was hot as fire. Alas, he removed the tight vest and tie and remained only in a black and red flannel shirt.

Viktor swallowed hard at the sight of the gorgeous man before him who was working on his cuffs. He managed out a question, without too much stuttering, “What did you want to show me?...”

“Nothing really,” Yuuri confessed and leaned on the desk. “I needed a plausible excuse to leave that meeting hall.”

Viktor paced the office from one side to another, taking everything in, and in the end, he turned to Yuuri. “Alright then, what are we doing here?”

Yuuri straightened his back. He wasn’t used to looking up at someone. “You have something on your mind, Night. And this is the safest place to discuss it.”

“That’s exactly what’s bothering me.” Viktor saw Yuuri tilting his head and squinting his eyes at him, so he went on. “The code names, I hate them.”

“I know that,” Yuuri whispered. “But for the time being, these will have to do.”

“You’re too paranoiac,” Viktor almost snapped and grabbed the other one by the elbows.

Yuuri pulled back, only the slightest. “You can never be too safe.” He couldn’t look Viktor in the eyes.

Viktor sighed. “That’s also true.” Then he leaned in until chin was resting on Yuuri’s neck, and he whispered. “But please, for me, say it… Just one time.”

It took Yuuri some time to pull his socks up, but in the end, he whispered softly, “Viktor…”

“Oh Gosh, how I missed that.” He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and pulled him to a standing position.

“I never thought I’d see you this vulnerable…” Yuuri cooed.

“You don’t even know…” Viktor rested his forehead against Yuuri’s and their noses were brushing ever so slightly. “It’s beautiful to see you looking like a normal man.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed. “It’s nice to feel that way too…”

Viktor rubbed his cheek against Yuuri’s head and grinned, “When will I get my yakuza tattoos?”

“You’re unbelievable. ”Yuuri leaned into the touch. “As soon as possible. I’ll take you to an artist and he’ll do something above your hipbone. That’s our family’s trademark placement. But what about me, hm?” He almost teased. “How will people know I’m ‘dallying’ with the Russian mafia’s leader?”

“We have special rings. On the outside, they don’t strike as anything out of the ordinary, but they have engravings on the inside. I’ll get you one as soon as I go back to St. Petersburg.”

Yuuri he pulled Viktor closer to himself. And yet, they weren’t close enough. Viktor felt the exact same way; he clung to Yuuri with all his might, as if he might fall apart if either one let go. This man that fit perfectly in his arms was all that could keep him going. Not Yurio, not his mafia family, not even the fear of death. But _Yuuri Katsuki_.

A phone buzzed near them and Viktor groaned. And again. And again. Yuuri reached for it and when he read the messages, his heart skipped a beat.

 _Run_ , Phichit wrote. _Go. NOW_.

Yuuri yanked Viktor by the wrists and pulled him through the back corridor. His breath stilled in his lungs in the worst moment possible, when he was running for his life. His palms were sweaty and he feared that he would lose the grip on Viktor.

“What–” was all that Viktor managed to say before Yuuri cut him off.

“They tracked us down!” He yelled between ragged breaths.

The phone rang again. _Drive_. Yuuri turned a sharp corned and froze in place. There were faint screams and shouts and gun fires banging somewhere far behind him, but nothing in front.

And then the corridor’s door creaked open. Yuuri darted forwards, Viktor right next by him and blood pumping in his chest and ears. A bullet swooshed nearby them. Yuuri praised whatever impulse he had not to remove his handguns from the holsters. 

After three more turns made only to escape the assassins, they reached the underground exit door. Yuuri worked on the knob for an agonizing moment, then smashed his shoulder against it, sending it flying open. The daylight stung his eyes, but he still urged Viktor to the closest car to them.

Right after he put the key into the ignition, Viktor pushed him to the passenger seat. “What do you think you’re doing?” Yuuri cried. “You don’t know where you should be going!”

“Exactly,” Viktor spat while starting the car himself. “They know where you would run away but they don’t know where I would. Now keep low!” He barked and took off.

A bulled fled right between then and Yuuri cursed, clinging to the headboard.

“Don’t die on me now, Yuuri! You’re not even bruised yet.”

“It’s not the time for that kind of humor, Viktor!” Yuuri snapped and Viktor clenched his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What can this car do?” Viktor leaned all his weight down to the gas pedal. “Can it do drifts or something?”

“Have you watched any car chase scene? Something like that.”

Viktor smirked. “Perfect.”

Yuuri shrieked a phrase, “You seem so calm, what’s wrong with you?!”

“You’re talking only to the most skilled man in Russia in car escapes.” But then he heard a siren behind them. Never a good sign. The rear-view mirror showed at least three other cars after them. “Shit…” Viktor turned the corner, nearly tipping the car over in the process.

There was some traffic up ahead. Just their luck!

Viktor swooshed between the vehicles when two bullets grazed the car top. “Are they really endangering innocent drivers?!”

“They want me, they don’t care about the consequences!”

A switch flipped in Viktor. “In that case, let’s give them the run of their lives!”

Yuuri’s stomach sunk into a pit when Viktor hit the speed one more time. It was either the cops or a car crash that would kill them today. But today was his last day, no denying about that.

They came to a dead end when they saw a wall of police cars right in front of them, at the first intersection.

“Stop, Viktor, stop!” Yuuri screamed and was almost sent flying forwards when Viktor hit the brakes. He grabbed a gun and pointed it at the men surrounding them when he exited the car. Viktor followed his lead.

“Dusk Mouse, you are now cornered!” a voice called in Japanese.

Yuuri instinctively pointed his gun in that general direction and answered in the same language “If-if I surrender now, will you leave this man alone?”

“He is your accomplice, we can’t let him go!”

“He has nothing to do with me!” Yuuri roared. “You want me, not him, is that so? Look at him, he’s simply terrified. His hands are clean. He’ll bring you no benefits. Take me and leave him be.”

One of the men nodded and agreed with Yuuri’s compromise.

Then Yuuri switched to English. “I want you to come here.” Viktor hesitated, as if he didn’t know he was being talked to, so Yuuri went on. “It’s alright, they won’t hurt you.”

At those words, Viktor inched closer and closer to Yuuri, never losing his stance and grip on his gun. When he was near enough, Yuuri walked until their shoulders brushed against one another. They were almost back-to-back.

Yuuri grabbed Viktor by the tie, tip toed and pressed his mouth long and hard against the other one’s. God, his lips were chapped, yet so warm. “Go back home as soon as possible,” he whispered near his ear. “I’m sorry.”

The next thing Viktor knows are the clang of handcuffs against Yuuri’s wrists, a tear rolling down and the engines driving away.

 

 


	4. Dead without You

Viktor collapsed on the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel to help ground himself, but to no avail. He stared into space, trying to bring his ragged, chocked breaths back to a rhythm. There was a sharp pressure, similar to a claw, on the back of his tongue, which made intakes of air that more difficult. He rubbed at his forehead, than looked around: an empty road, empty lowlands and the midday sun was burning right over his head.

He waited. He waited for his mind to clear, or for some sign to take action. What was he supposed to do now? Go back to the headquarters and tell them that Yuuri is gone and possibly headed towards certain death? No way would he do that. He couldn’t imagine himself giving such news and before that, he had no idea how to return.

His phone rang and he jolted up. A number beginning with +66 appeared on the screen. His mind firstly flew to the devil’s number, but this was exactly the opposite, in reality: it was his salvation.

“Raintree here,” a young boy introduced himself the moment Viktor answered. “Are you with me, Winter Night?” His voice was rushed and there was some angry typing in the background.

Viktor nodded, but then he realized he should say something too. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Perfect. Now listen up. We don’t have much time, so you have to do everything I say, if you want Dusk Mouse to survive.”

Funny how the tables have turned: someone was giving instructions to Viktor… He shuffled in his seat and the boy continued.

“Put the phone on speaker and drive to Nakasu. I’ll guide you to a tattoo shop.”

“Isn’t time a little bit too short for that?” Viktor asked over the engine’s roar.

“It doesn’t matter.” The tone was flat, yet calculated. “You’re one of us, you need to get that done ASAP. Now listen here…”

And Phichit proceeded to teach him that Japanese family’s secret codes, and there were a lot. Soon Viktor realized that they could carry an apparently formal conversation, but behind the words, there was a totally another message. It was scary and intriguing at the same time. How many times has Yuuri asked mundane questions in front of him that were actually dangerous?

* * *

He got to Nakasu sooner that he realized. Phichit wished him good luck and hung up. Viktor found himself alone in a square full of hurried people fast-moving bicycles. People talked on the phone in a language foreign to him and his knees went weak, for a brief moment. There were smells of all sorts coming from all around him: some sweet, some sour and some bitter. He pulled his socks up, and exited the car. Phichit has described the location with maximum detail, as well as how to get there and what to ask first.

When he entered the studio, a blinding light hit him along with stunning pictures which decorated the walls. There was a man at the front desk, who saluted Viktor in Japanese.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Viktor begun in English, as Phichit told him to do. “I’m not from around these parts.” Which actually meant, _I’m the foreigner Raintree told you to wait for_.

The man, too, switched to English, with a little bit of accent. “No problem. What can I help you with?” _How urgent is the situation?_

“I’d like a tattoo from Yuuko? If possible…” _Since Yuuko doesn’t do that many details, and we’re definitely in a hurry_.

The man nodded, then went to the other room in the back and called for said Yuuko. Moments later, a short and pale woman emerged from behind the corner and saluted Viktor. “What will the tattoo be about?” She smiled.

“I’d like an outline, please. Above my hipbone.” Viktor smiled as well. “But I can’t decide between the flower of a raintree or a rose.” _Raintree sent me here, now let’s get to business and have that rose inked already_.

“Sure thing. Follow me, please.” She said and guided Viktor to the bed, asked him to get undressed and lie down, while she prepared the tattoo machine with expert hands. She closed the doors so they would be alone there and gave Viktor three stencils of a rose tattoo.

Viktor picked the one of them, almost without looking. He couldn’t care less about what model he had on his skin. All that mattered was for this to be over as soon as possible.

What followed were the longest ten minutes of Viktor’s life. Nevertheless, he kept calm by repeatedly reminding himself that each and every press of the needle into his skin brought him closer to saving Yuuri. Moreover, those ten minutes gave him enough time to contemplate about close Yuuri was with his subordinated. In Russia, Viktor had a large family, all over the place. He could go without a handful of people it wouldn’t make a difference. But for the Japanese mafia, it was the exact opposite: they couldn’t afford any loss, every member was precious.

“You said you wanted only the lines?” Yuuko’s question brought him back to reality. After Viktor nodded, she went on, cheerfully, “They you’re done!”

“Would you be so kind to take a picture of it for me before you put bandages over it?” Viktor asked her.

She took his phone, snapped a photo and handed it back to Viktor. But then her tone changed. “Come with me, for a moment.”

Viktor was taken even further back the building, to a storage room. The light was dim, the space was cramped and there was a strong smell of alcohol.

After Yuuko shut the door, she turned towards Viktor. Despite her being a foot shorter, Viktor felt small in front of her soul-piercing gaze. “Where is Dusk Mouse?”

“I…” he sighed. “I have no idea. We were chased and then he got captured.”

“And how come you’ve escaped?”

Viktor could read between her words. _You should’ve been in custody, not Yuuri_. He couldn’t agree more. He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “I don’t know that either. He spoke in Japanese with the men and probably arranged something.”

Yuuko grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Great! Just great! Listen, what was the last thing he said to you? I’m talking about the specific words.”

Viktor had to think for a moment. “‘Go back home as soon as possible.’”

“ _Bring reinforcements quickly_ ,” Yuuko translated.

“Raintree said he’ll contact you when he tracks him down. I have a helicopter here to bring him to Russia once we find him.”

“I know, I know. Raintree sent us a message not too long before you got here. The members of our family are after him already.” She said that almost spitting the words out.

* * *

In the meantime, Yuuri was brought to the mountainside. He recognized the place: it was an out-of-service road that led to an abandoned military base. It served as his headquarter in the past, for a couple of months. He fidgeted with his fingers and cuffs, until someone spanked the back of his head. “Keep quiet!”

He kept his head low and shoulders arched downwards. What were they going to do to him? Kill him? No, it was too soon for that; they needed the information that only Yuuri possessed.

For a second, his mind flew to Viktor’s eyes, deep and focused, yet gentle and caring and his lungs shrunk. His guts told him he would never be able to see them again.

The halls reminded him of the labyrinth under St. Petersburg: dim and smelly, with wet patches of mold here and there, the air was cold and still. They walked in silence and a guard was running his gun across the lock ups’ metal bars, a sound that sent needles through Yuuri’s backbone. He liked to do that to other inmates he captured, but now it made his stomach turn.

They entered a large room, something Yuuri recognized as his past office and someone yanked his handcuffs and threw him against the wall. “You are going to obey if you want to get out of here alive!” The man barked.

 _You’re not fooling anyone_ , Yuuri thought. _We both know that the moment you’ll find me useless is the moment my life ends_.

There were four people circling him. Two had their guns pointed at him and the rest were standing up straight, squared shoulders and tense muscles. Yuuri shifted up a little bit, so he can sit better against the chill wall.

Then the first question came. “Where is your hideout now?”

Yuuri chewed on his bottom lip. He instructed his subordinates to never reveal anything if caught and interrogated. If it is to die, then so be it, they won’t be forgotten and their efforts won’t be in vain. Bu they should trust that they’d be saved. Therefore, all Yuuri could do is to wait for someone to rescue him.

Then a hand smashed against his check. “ANSWER ME!” When Yuuri cursed under his breath, the man grabbed him by the chin and locked their gazes. “I’ll ask one more time. _Where is your hideout_?”

“I won’t tell…” Yuuri spat and jerked his head to the side.

“Alright then,” said the man and pulled out a knife, its blade shining yellow in the light. He grabbed Yuuri by the cuffs and dragged the knife upwards, in one swift move, cutting the sleeve apart. Then off it went with the other one and with the whole shirt fell apart.

Yuuri’s breath hitched in his chest. There he was, skin bared to those who want to wound it the most. His floral tattoo bloomed above his right hip and spread all across his torso, circling his wait just the slightest.

The man squatted in front of him and pressed the blade’s tip between Yuuri’s collarbones. Yuuri saw the opportunity and kicked the man straight in the chest. He stumbled over another and thud! they both hit the ground. “Why you little–”

“You leave my family alone, you hear that!” Yuuri screamed and strong hands gripped his shoulders while someone stepped on his cuffs. “You want me, not them! They’re just kids; they’re no good to you!” He bit back a cry.

“If that’s how you play…” The man stumbled to his feet, dusted off his clothes and turned to a sharpshooter. “Take him away. No food or water. Three days.” Then he eyes Yuuri again with poison in his gaze. “We’ll see how tough he is afterwards.”

* * *

Yuuko, Takeshi, Minami and Viktor waited until nightfall. Thanks to Phichit, they have successfully tracked down where Yuuri might be hiding, in the mountains and now they’re waiting for the right time to strike. Three of them would go inside and retrieve Yuuri, while Viktor must stay outside and shoot everyone who stands in their way. Good thing he was Yakov’s go-to sharpshooter before becoming the papa.

The uniform felt heavy on him, heavier than he remembered. It was jam-packed with bullets and tranquilizers and most importantly, it carried the souls of all the people he would have to kill.

Right before the clock struck midnight, the three entered and Viktor stood outside, in his hiding spot. He took off the safety pad and clenched his finger on the trigger. Moments later, a chocked scream broke the silence, then an alarms and red light. People in thick, black clothes rushed outside and the moment they opened the door…

 _POW_!

Viktor shot. Pow! Pow! Pow! One after another, the bodies fell on the ground before they could even see where the bullets came from. The smell of raw blood rose in the air, but Viktor pushed it away. He pushed away all the regret he had for murdering those innocent youngsters. He will worry about that later, eventually.

Then a bullet grazed over his biceps, snitching away a layer of flesh. The shock was greater than the pain and he stumbled backwards, down the slippery hill. He hit a tree and broke his fall and he could already hear footsteps coming closer to him. He circled the tree to hide behind it, grabbed his trusty handgun, and shot again. And again. And again.

No amount of people was too much for Viktor Nikiforov to handle, but he still had to take a bullet close to the hip and shin to let it all out and massacre his enemies. He climbed up the hill, just in time to grab his firearm and spot Takeshi dragging a limp body after him. Viktor refused to look closely at them, in fear that he would lose his mind if he saw Yuuri injured _again_. Takeshi handed him to Viktor, called a good luck, and turned around to keep the enemies from getting any closer.

Viktor lifted Yuuri off the ground and his hands sunk into a layer of caked blood. Yuuri yelped in pain, but at least it meant he was alive, thank Goodness. Viktor’s hear skipped a beat when he heard tiny footsteps around him, but with the corner of his eyes, he spotted a blonde boy with fiery red forelock who was there to keep their back covered.

The run towards the helicopter was the longest half an hour in Viktor’s life. The blades were already starting to spin when he draped himself and Yuuri over the backseat. He pulled the door shut and waited until they were up in the air to finally breathe well for the first time.

“Glad to see you in one piece!” The pilot, Georgi, shouted with a grin and handed Viktor a pair of headphones.

“More or less,” Viktor muttered and yanked off his uniform, the bulletproof vest, the heavy camouflage pants and all the weapons, until he was dressed in nothing more than a blouse and leggings.

Then he turned to Yuuri, who needed immediate assistance. There was blood near his mouth and under his nose, one of his eyes were swollen and – Viktor’s stomach turned upside down – there were long and shallow injuries all across his back, shoulders and neck, some even crisscrossing. _Whip marks, disgusting_ …

“He’s drugged really well,” Georgi took notice. “There’s a kit under the seat.”

Viktor nodded. “Where’s Mila when you need her…” He disinfected and bandaged Yuuri as best as he could. He wasn’t as skilled at his Russian Snake, but this had to do until they got back to St. Petersburg.

Only they weren’t going to back to that place, just yet. There was no way Yuuri could’ve made the two-day flight. So they stopped at Vladivostok, at another headquarter of Viktor’s, hidden in plain sight, in the middle of the city.

* * *

A week passed since the capturing, and Yuuri began to feel better. He spent his days in Viktor’s mason, where they returned when he was conscious and well. However, he barely came out of his room, outside of having to eat and he hardly spoke. He shared a handful of words with Viktor, but his throat was sore and he couldn’t talk for very long. He also flinched every time someone, whether it was Viktor or a doctor, touched him, so as much as it pained Viktor, he kept the physical contact to a minimum. Yuuri spent all his days alone in his room, sleeping, reading or tracing the lines of his bandages, feeling the wounds’ sting and wondering whether his family was alive or not.  He couldn’t bring himself to ask Viktor.

One warm evening, when he was lying underneath the blankets with a book in front of him, there was a knock on the door, right before Viktor entered. He had a plate of steaming food with him. “Pasta,” he smiled and placed it nearby the bed, on the nightstand.

Yuuri expected Viktor to leave, as he did every time. Instead, he sat next to him and waited. Not that Yuuri minded, since Viktor was one of the only things that kept him sane and grounded. In the end, Yuuri was the one to break the silence. “Turn around.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t talk.”

Startled, Viktor did as told. He heard Yuuri sitting up, then some shuffling and then two arms crawled around his waist and a warm heartbeat pressed itself to his back. Yuuri sighed near the crook of his neck.

Viktor would’ve paid anything to have the permission to tangle his fingers with Yuuri’s, or kiss him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the one to set the pace here. He shuddered. No, Yuuri shuddered. When Viktor turned around, his stomach sunk. Tears blurred Yuuri’s red eyes, but he wasn’t hiccupping or even sobbing. They were silent tears, the most painful of them all, Viktor believed.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Yuuri confessed with an edge to his voice. “It might be terror, happiness, relief or all of the above.”

“Your family are safe,” Viktor whispered. “Every one of them.”

“Then it’s tears of relief.” Yuuri moved around Viktor and straddled his lap. He was still draped all over the Russian man, with his face hidden, but now he could clench his fingers to Viktor’s shirt.

Viktor, at the same time, kept his hands on the small of Yuuri’s back, not knowing whether he had the permission to go higher, to the wounds, or not. “That tattoo looks pretty on you, Yuuri. I got mine done as well.”

It took Yuuri a moment to answer. “I would like to see it, please.”

“Then take off my shirt,” Viktor hummed. “I’m too comfortable here.”

Yuuri chuckled and pulled the shirt’s hem upwards, then nudged Viktor to lie on his back, to get a better look. “A rose? Interesting choice. I would’ve expected something tougher from you.”

“I’m planning to color it blue,” Viktor bit his tongue and placed his hands on either side of Yuuri’s waist, who tensed up just the slightest. “What can I do for you now, Yuuri?” there was a clear trace of worry in his voice.

This time, Yuuri answered without any hesitation. “Sit up and close your eyes.” He tugged at Viktor’s hand while his cheeks were turning pink.

After Viktor returned to a sitting position and lowered his eyelids, he felt the shy brush of a sigh over his lips, then an eager yet gentle mouth over his. He smiled into the kiss and pulled Yuuri towards him only the slightest. Yuuri tangled his fingers in Viktor’s silky hair and Viktor prayed this moment would never end, because he missed it so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like to read an Explicit one-shot based on this? :3


End file.
